Remember
Title: Remember
Author: naughtybunny23
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Beta: carly21 This fic was written just for you - to help you put life’s problems behind you and for a few moments sink into a cloud of Ten smut.
Rating: Adult, contains explicit content, so don’t read this around your holiday guests. Well, unless they are fanfic fiends with a hankerin’ for tasteful smut.
Summary: In the weeks following Krop Tor, Rose and The Doctor deepen their intimate connection while The Doctor seeks to uncover some truths about ‘that’ Christmas Day and exactly how he got into those pyjamas.
Disclaimer: The Doctor, all versions of him and all related characters are the property of Russell T Davies and the BBC and I make no money from this work of fiction. Oh, but that I could make a living writing this stuff…
Notes: Krop Tor continues to plague my brain, and I must write to exorcise the demon… Tethered is the prequel to this.
“So exactly what were you expecting?” he asks as his fingertips draw small circles onto her shoulder.
She lies with her head under his chin, the length of her body pressed along his side with her right leg hooked across his. Her arm rests across his chest, and she can feel the thumpthump whumpwhump as his hearts slowly settle into their normal rhythm from the wild staccato of a few minutes before.
She is floating in that space between sleep and wake, cuddled against his cool body in her post-orgasmic drowse. The sound of his voice rumbles up from his chest into her ear and rouses her from her dreamy state.
“What?” she mumbles sleepily, never bothering to open her eyes or raise her head.
“When we first, well, you know, when you first looked at…it, my manly flesh, my muscle of love, my throbbing-”
She raises her head then and with only one eye half open, looks at him in bleary puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
It had been two weeks since Krop Tor, where in his darkest moment she had offered and he had accepted the only comfort she could provide. Once they escaped the impossible planet, they had each tried to forget the dire predictions of the Beast, but in putting behind them the memories of what had happened in that ancient place they had clung to the intimate connection made there. The darkness he had spilled into her while underneath the black star had lifted somewhat once they returned to the TARDIS and their life of running and handholding. Sometimes, as she lies beneath him, she can still see the reflection in his eyes of the black hole just as she had that first night, when he stared out the window transfixed by that spectral beauty while he pounded relentlessly into her submissive flesh.
But today had been a good day, a sunny day, with an adventure involving a kidnapped princess who, it turned out, hadn’t been kidnapped at all but had merely run away to be with the clerk she loves instead of the prince of a neighbouring kingdom she had been contracted to marry. Rose and The Doctor had promised to help the emperor find his daughter, then once Rose deducted her true whereabouts and situation, had successfully negotiated the poor clerk’s release from the dungeons, where he had been thrown as a accessory in the princess’s disappearance. The day’s adventure had ended with the prince admitting he was in love with his chamberlain’s daughter and a wedding for four with everyone coupled to their proper mate.
So now the Time Lord and his companion are wrapped around one another atop a plush burgundy duvet, having been caught up in the joy of their new friends’ wedding bliss. He had pulled Rose from the celebration as soon as was politely possible and once inside the TARDIS, rushed to pull her clothes away, wanting only to feel the warmth of her body against his coolness and submerge himself in the joy he could see in her eyes.
But now Rose is raised up on one elbow, drowsily peering over at him with a baffled look on her face as she tries to ascertain exactly what he is on about.
“You know,” he says. “When you first looked at -“ he gestures with a flick of his hand down below his waist - “you said, ‘It looks normal.’"
She sits up then and moves to her knees beside him. She reaches out and casually ruffles the hair across his chest, smiling as she watches him tense slightly from her light, ticklish touch. Her eyes drift down to the flesh in question, now lying soft and inactive between his thighs.
Her eyes travel back to his, where she is met with an expectant expression.
“I just wasn’t sure what to expect. I mean, for all I knew, you could have had tentacles down there.”
His expression turns from slight worry to more than slight exasperation. “What is it with humans and the fascination with tentacles? You lot always seem to want to put tentacles on alien creatures.” He raises up suddenly on his elbows. “Besides, some life forms are quite well-equipped in that area. Tentacles can be very tactile.”
Her eyebrows dip at his statement. “I don’t even want to think about what you might know about that subject.”
He chooses to ignore her statement and smiles as he continues his line of questioning. “But you were thinking about it, yeah? Not the tentacles thing, but, well, you know…”
She moves her hand down his chest, slowly back and forth as she heads towards his hardening shaft. “Yeah, I guess I was.”
“So you weren’t the least bit concerned about compromising yourself with an alien life form?” He wiggles his brows suggestively as his cock jerks in anticipation of the arrival of her very talented digits.
She leans forward engaging his lips as she wraps her hand firmly around him. He moans into her mouth and slides his lips down her cheek to whisper into her ear exactly what he wants her to do to him. He feels the muscles of her cheek flex against his face as she smiles at the suggestive language and tightens her grip around him in response. He nibbles his way over to a newly discovered spot on her neck and reaching down to grasp her still-busy hand, pulls her up so that he can position her on top of him, pressing her full torso along the length of his body. He continues to kiss along her neck and shoulder as he flips her over on her back, pushing his knee between her thighs and growling against her flesh as he feels the dampness there.
He is rocking his hips to position himself at her centre when the disturbing thought occurs to him.
“Hold on a tic.” He stills his movements and pushes his head back to look her in the eye.
“Whot?” She stops wiggling her hips and opens her eyes with a look of puzzled disappointment. “Whot?”
“If you hadn’t seen me in my full glory until Krop Tor, who changed me into jimjams that Christmas?”
She bites her lower lip and smiles nervously at him. She wiggles her hips underneath him, hoping to entice him back to the business at hand but she can see the gears spinning in his head and knows he will not be deterred from coming to the conclusion-
“Oh, no, don’t tell me-“ he raises up and she almost laughs at the way his brows furrow as the fearful thought exits through his mouth. “Please tell me it wasn’t your mother.”
She pushes up on her elbows and opens her mouth to answer, but then some little part of her brain decides that this is too good an opportunity to pass up. After all, she doesn’t often have the upper hand against his superior Time Lord everything.
She faces him with an apologetic look and has to hold her breath for a moment to avoid breaking out in belly laughs at the stricken look across his face. “Well, it’s not like I knew where you kept your jimjams on the TARDIS-“
“No,” he says simply. “No.”
She feels his cock slightly twitch and, realising that an image of her mother peeking at his manly parts will do little for his libido, decides to give up the game.
“’Course not,” she answers calmly. “Mickey did it.” She plops her head back on the pillow and arches her hips, trying to remind him why he was poised on top of her in the first place.
He pauses to contemplate her answer. On the one hand, the prospect of being manhandled by the idiot is only slightly less offensive than the thought of Jackie Tyler inspecting her daughter’s future love toy. On the other hand, he knows enough about human anatomy to postulate that his particular set of dangly bits is just a tad more impressive than that of the average male of the species and maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing if Rose’s boyfriend was able to size up the competition…
Rose isn’t sure what causes the change in his expression from looking like he has just eaten a pear to looking like he has just found a new setting on his sonic screwdriver. He flashes his trademark manic grin, rolls his hips against her and thrusts home hard enough to make her squeak in surprise. He stills and leans over to whisper in her ear.
“So is that when Mickey decided to give you over to the better man?” He thrusts into her once as a kind of physical punctuation to his question.
Oh brother, she thinks, Time Lord or not, blokes really are just blokes when it comes to that. “No,” she challenges back. “If you remember, soon after that was when he decided maybe he wanted to travel with you.”
He raises up again and the pear look returns. “You don’t mean,” he sputters out. He looks at her in disbelief. “No, he wouldn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t…oh, no, just…no.”
Rose bursts out laughing and now he is really confused.
“You are so gullible,” she manages to sputter out. He suddenly thinks that being buried to the hilt inside a woman who is laughing at him is not going to do a lot for his sexual self-confidence.
She immediately stops when she sees the look of confusion on his face. She reaches up and strokes his sideburn (something she has grown to like doing over the past few weeks), feeling guilty over the little joke she is playing on him. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just having you on.”
“So Mickedy Mick did not in fact change my clothes that day.” He looks smugly down at her and grins. “Weeeeeeeeeeellllll, if it wasn’t the idiot and it wasn’t your mother…” A worried look once again crosses his face and his smile momentarily disappears. “And we have established it wasn’t your mother, right?”
She shakes her head and doesn’t speak, but the tongue that pokes out the corner of her mouth reignites his smile, as does the wiggle of her hips and the sexy grin that goes along with the movement.
“You little minx,” he growls as he pushes his arms underneath her shoulders, “you handled disrobing me that day.” He cocks his head and smiles down at her, a sudden flash of soft hands moving across his body blinking in and out of his brain.
She blushes and turns her head, momentarily shy about this revelation. He chuckles lovingly and brushes a lock of blonde hair from her cheek. “So did you peek?”
She turns back to look at him, and he preens at the answer he sees in her eyes. “You did, didn’t you?” He slowly pulls from her and just as slowly pushes back into her, revelling in the feel of her tight warmth. She moans and arches into him.
“Of course I did,” she whispers breathily as he slowly picks up the pace. “But only for a second.”
She closes her eyes and concentrates on the feel of him pushing into her, filling her and stretching her to spark the familiar feeling now coiling in her belly. Her mind moves from the moment to a cold Christmas Day a year ago when she sat on a bed in a darkened room wondering if the man she loved would survive the night. She remembers how unnaturally hot he felt as she wiped his brow and thought that he needed something lighter and drier to wear than the sweat-drenched black jeans and jumper she and Mickey had put him to bed in. Her mother had brought her Howard’s pyjamas and offered to help her change him, but she had gently pushed her from the room, respecting his dignity and just a little afraid of what she would find underneath the rough denim.
Her hands had trembled then as she slowly unzipped his trousers and tugged them from his hips. She had smiled as she saw no pants, thinking that someday she was going to ask him about this preference. Mickey had earlier removed his boots and socks, and she remembered looking at his bare feet as she carefully pulled the trouser legs over them, noting the ten long, very human-looking toes with carefully trimmed nails and trying to picture a Time Lord with a nail clipper. She moved back to the head of the bed and lifting his body up, pulled the vest from him and then gently laid him back against the pillow.
“Rose?” She opens her eyes to see him smiling down at her with the tiniest hint of concern in his eyes. He has stilled his movements, and he pulls one arm from under her to lightly caress her cheek. “Am I doing something wrong?”
She moves underneath him and he hisses as he feels her muscles tighten around him. “No,” she says as she lifts her hand to cup his face. “I was just remembering the first time I saw you, that Christmas, and how beautiful I thought you were.”
She looks into his eyes, the pupils black with desire for her. She runs her hand down his side, around to his hip and then to his buttocks, grasping him firmly there so that she can feel his muscles clench as he twitches and then pushes deeper inside her. That Christmas Day she had done more than peek, and she is torn between telling him all and hoping he will never remember.
She had sat at his side in the darkened room, staring at his body bared before her with the pyjamas in one arm pressed against her breasts. The other hand was tracing through the sparse hairs on his chest, then moving to trace the dark trail down his abdomen to the dense patch of curls between his thighs. She stroked down the length of him, noting that he was built as any male she had seen in that regard, albeit a bit thicker and maybe just a tad longer. His cock had twitched when she touched it, and when he moaned in his sleep, a little golden vapour had escaped from his opened mouth, startling her. She jerked back her hand from him and then quickly redressed him in Howard’s pyjamas before her mother, or worse, Mickey walked back into the room.
She floats back to where a Time Lord with a puzzled expression is sheathed inside her. She rolls them over so that she is on top and his expression changes to surprised excitement as she begins to move above him.
“Rose Tyler,” he says between somewhat undignified grunts, “have I told you lately how brilliant you are?”
He grasps her hips and begins to thrust up into her as she pushes down to meet him. She leans forward slightly and the bumpbumpbump of his pelvis against her soon turns the slow burn in her belly to a fiery explosion that spreads from her core throughout her body. When she screams her release, the vocalization along with the clenching muscles around his cock push him over the edge, and he groans her name along with a string of expletives that surprise even him. He is sure behind the noises emanating from his bedroom he can hear a low hum of disapproval from his ship.
So here they are again - she pressed against his side listening to the slowing rhythms of his double heartbeats, his fingers drawing little circles on her arm. (They are really the Gallifreyan letters of his name and he just realizes he is doing it.) The room is dark and quiet except for the background hum of the TARDIS, who now seems to have gotten over her prudishness. He rests his chin on the top of her head, suddenly fascinated by the way his breath stirs her hair. He smiles as she reaches over and rests her hand, palm-down, on his chest, her fingers absently curling through the hairs. Someday he will tell her of the strange and arousing dream he experienced during his regeneration sleep, the one where she moved her hand across his body much like she is doing now, the one where she caressed and stroked his cock and then whispered ‘help me’ into his ear.
Someday.
Author: naughtybunny23
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Beta: carly21 This fic was written just for you - to help you put life’s problems behind you and for a few moments sink into a cloud of Ten smut.
Rating: Adult, contains explicit content, so don’t read this around your holiday guests. Well, unless they are fanfic fiends with a hankerin’ for tasteful smut.
Summary: In the weeks following Krop Tor, Rose and The Doctor deepen their intimate connection while The Doctor seeks to uncover some truths about ‘that’ Christmas Day and exactly how he got into those pyjamas.
Disclaimer: The Doctor, all versions of him and all related characters are the property of Russell T Davies and the BBC and I make no money from this work of fiction. Oh, but that I could make a living writing this stuff…
Notes: Krop Tor continues to plague my brain, and I must write to exorcise the demon… Tethered is the prequel to this.
“So exactly what were you expecting?” he asks as his fingertips draw small circles onto her shoulder.
She lies with her head under his chin, the length of her body pressed along his side with her right leg hooked across his. Her arm rests across his chest, and she can feel the thumpthump whumpwhump as his hearts slowly settle into their normal rhythm from the wild staccato of a few minutes before.
She is floating in that space between sleep and wake, cuddled against his cool body in her post-orgasmic drowse. The sound of his voice rumbles up from his chest into her ear and rouses her from her dreamy state.
“What?” she mumbles sleepily, never bothering to open her eyes or raise her head.
“When we first, well, you know, when you first looked at…it, my manly flesh, my muscle of love, my throbbing-”
She raises her head then and with only one eye half open, looks at him in bleary puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
It had been two weeks since Krop Tor, where in his darkest moment she had offered and he had accepted the only comfort she could provide. Once they escaped the impossible planet, they had each tried to forget the dire predictions of the Beast, but in putting behind them the memories of what had happened in that ancient place they had clung to the intimate connection made there. The darkness he had spilled into her while underneath the black star had lifted somewhat once they returned to the TARDIS and their life of running and handholding. Sometimes, as she lies beneath him, she can still see the reflection in his eyes of the black hole just as she had that first night, when he stared out the window transfixed by that spectral beauty while he pounded relentlessly into her submissive flesh.
But today had been a good day, a sunny day, with an adventure involving a kidnapped princess who, it turned out, hadn’t been kidnapped at all but had merely run away to be with the clerk she loves instead of the prince of a neighbouring kingdom she had been contracted to marry. Rose and The Doctor had promised to help the emperor find his daughter, then once Rose deducted her true whereabouts and situation, had successfully negotiated the poor clerk’s release from the dungeons, where he had been thrown as a accessory in the princess’s disappearance. The day’s adventure had ended with the prince admitting he was in love with his chamberlain’s daughter and a wedding for four with everyone coupled to their proper mate.
So now the Time Lord and his companion are wrapped around one another atop a plush burgundy duvet, having been caught up in the joy of their new friends’ wedding bliss. He had pulled Rose from the celebration as soon as was politely possible and once inside the TARDIS, rushed to pull her clothes away, wanting only to feel the warmth of her body against his coolness and submerge himself in the joy he could see in her eyes.
But now Rose is raised up on one elbow, drowsily peering over at him with a baffled look on her face as she tries to ascertain exactly what he is on about.
“You know,” he says. “When you first looked at -“ he gestures with a flick of his hand down below his waist - “you said, ‘It looks normal.’"
She sits up then and moves to her knees beside him. She reaches out and casually ruffles the hair across his chest, smiling as she watches him tense slightly from her light, ticklish touch. Her eyes drift down to the flesh in question, now lying soft and inactive between his thighs.
Her eyes travel back to his, where she is met with an expectant expression.
“I just wasn’t sure what to expect. I mean, for all I knew, you could have had tentacles down there.”
His expression turns from slight worry to more than slight exasperation. “What is it with humans and the fascination with tentacles? You lot always seem to want to put tentacles on alien creatures.” He raises up suddenly on his elbows. “Besides, some life forms are quite well-equipped in that area. Tentacles can be very tactile.”
Her eyebrows dip at his statement. “I don’t even want to think about what you might know about that subject.”
He chooses to ignore her statement and smiles as he continues his line of questioning. “But you were thinking about it, yeah? Not the tentacles thing, but, well, you know…”
She moves her hand down his chest, slowly back and forth as she heads towards his hardening shaft. “Yeah, I guess I was.”
“So you weren’t the least bit concerned about compromising yourself with an alien life form?” He wiggles his brows suggestively as his cock jerks in anticipation of the arrival of her very talented digits.
She leans forward engaging his lips as she wraps her hand firmly around him. He moans into her mouth and slides his lips down her cheek to whisper into her ear exactly what he wants her to do to him. He feels the muscles of her cheek flex against his face as she smiles at the suggestive language and tightens her grip around him in response. He nibbles his way over to a newly discovered spot on her neck and reaching down to grasp her still-busy hand, pulls her up so that he can position her on top of him, pressing her full torso along the length of his body. He continues to kiss along her neck and shoulder as he flips her over on her back, pushing his knee between her thighs and growling against her flesh as he feels the dampness there.
He is rocking his hips to position himself at her centre when the disturbing thought occurs to him.
“Hold on a tic.” He stills his movements and pushes his head back to look her in the eye.
“Whot?” She stops wiggling her hips and opens her eyes with a look of puzzled disappointment. “Whot?”
“If you hadn’t seen me in my full glory until Krop Tor, who changed me into jimjams that Christmas?”
She bites her lower lip and smiles nervously at him. She wiggles her hips underneath him, hoping to entice him back to the business at hand but she can see the gears spinning in his head and knows he will not be deterred from coming to the conclusion-
“Oh, no, don’t tell me-“ he raises up and she almost laughs at the way his brows furrow as the fearful thought exits through his mouth. “Please tell me it wasn’t your mother.”
She pushes up on her elbows and opens her mouth to answer, but then some little part of her brain decides that this is too good an opportunity to pass up. After all, she doesn’t often have the upper hand against his superior Time Lord everything.
She faces him with an apologetic look and has to hold her breath for a moment to avoid breaking out in belly laughs at the stricken look across his face. “Well, it’s not like I knew where you kept your jimjams on the TARDIS-“
“No,” he says simply. “No.”
She feels his cock slightly twitch and, realising that an image of her mother peeking at his manly parts will do little for his libido, decides to give up the game.
“’Course not,” she answers calmly. “Mickey did it.” She plops her head back on the pillow and arches her hips, trying to remind him why he was poised on top of her in the first place.
He pauses to contemplate her answer. On the one hand, the prospect of being manhandled by the idiot is only slightly less offensive than the thought of Jackie Tyler inspecting her daughter’s future love toy. On the other hand, he knows enough about human anatomy to postulate that his particular set of dangly bits is just a tad more impressive than that of the average male of the species and maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing if Rose’s boyfriend was able to size up the competition…
Rose isn’t sure what causes the change in his expression from looking like he has just eaten a pear to looking like he has just found a new setting on his sonic screwdriver. He flashes his trademark manic grin, rolls his hips against her and thrusts home hard enough to make her squeak in surprise. He stills and leans over to whisper in her ear.
“So is that when Mickey decided to give you over to the better man?” He thrusts into her once as a kind of physical punctuation to his question.
Oh brother, she thinks, Time Lord or not, blokes really are just blokes when it comes to that. “No,” she challenges back. “If you remember, soon after that was when he decided maybe he wanted to travel with you.”
He raises up again and the pear look returns. “You don’t mean,” he sputters out. He looks at her in disbelief. “No, he wouldn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t…oh, no, just…no.”
Rose bursts out laughing and now he is really confused.
“You are so gullible,” she manages to sputter out. He suddenly thinks that being buried to the hilt inside a woman who is laughing at him is not going to do a lot for his sexual self-confidence.
She immediately stops when she sees the look of confusion on his face. She reaches up and strokes his sideburn (something she has grown to like doing over the past few weeks), feeling guilty over the little joke she is playing on him. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just having you on.”
“So Mickedy Mick did not in fact change my clothes that day.” He looks smugly down at her and grins. “Weeeeeeeeeeellllll, if it wasn’t the idiot and it wasn’t your mother…” A worried look once again crosses his face and his smile momentarily disappears. “And we have established it wasn’t your mother, right?”
She shakes her head and doesn’t speak, but the tongue that pokes out the corner of her mouth reignites his smile, as does the wiggle of her hips and the sexy grin that goes along with the movement.
“You little minx,” he growls as he pushes his arms underneath her shoulders, “you handled disrobing me that day.” He cocks his head and smiles down at her, a sudden flash of soft hands moving across his body blinking in and out of his brain.
She blushes and turns her head, momentarily shy about this revelation. He chuckles lovingly and brushes a lock of blonde hair from her cheek. “So did you peek?”
She turns back to look at him, and he preens at the answer he sees in her eyes. “You did, didn’t you?” He slowly pulls from her and just as slowly pushes back into her, revelling in the feel of her tight warmth. She moans and arches into him.
“Of course I did,” she whispers breathily as he slowly picks up the pace. “But only for a second.”
She closes her eyes and concentrates on the feel of him pushing into her, filling her and stretching her to spark the familiar feeling now coiling in her belly. Her mind moves from the moment to a cold Christmas Day a year ago when she sat on a bed in a darkened room wondering if the man she loved would survive the night. She remembers how unnaturally hot he felt as she wiped his brow and thought that he needed something lighter and drier to wear than the sweat-drenched black jeans and jumper she and Mickey had put him to bed in. Her mother had brought her Howard’s pyjamas and offered to help her change him, but she had gently pushed her from the room, respecting his dignity and just a little afraid of what she would find underneath the rough denim.
Her hands had trembled then as she slowly unzipped his trousers and tugged them from his hips. She had smiled as she saw no pants, thinking that someday she was going to ask him about this preference. Mickey had earlier removed his boots and socks, and she remembered looking at his bare feet as she carefully pulled the trouser legs over them, noting the ten long, very human-looking toes with carefully trimmed nails and trying to picture a Time Lord with a nail clipper. She moved back to the head of the bed and lifting his body up, pulled the vest from him and then gently laid him back against the pillow.
“Rose?” She opens her eyes to see him smiling down at her with the tiniest hint of concern in his eyes. He has stilled his movements, and he pulls one arm from under her to lightly caress her cheek. “Am I doing something wrong?”
She moves underneath him and he hisses as he feels her muscles tighten around him. “No,” she says as she lifts her hand to cup his face. “I was just remembering the first time I saw you, that Christmas, and how beautiful I thought you were.”
She looks into his eyes, the pupils black with desire for her. She runs her hand down his side, around to his hip and then to his buttocks, grasping him firmly there so that she can feel his muscles clench as he twitches and then pushes deeper inside her. That Christmas Day she had done more than peek, and she is torn between telling him all and hoping he will never remember.
She had sat at his side in the darkened room, staring at his body bared before her with the pyjamas in one arm pressed against her breasts. The other hand was tracing through the sparse hairs on his chest, then moving to trace the dark trail down his abdomen to the dense patch of curls between his thighs. She stroked down the length of him, noting that he was built as any male she had seen in that regard, albeit a bit thicker and maybe just a tad longer. His cock had twitched when she touched it, and when he moaned in his sleep, a little golden vapour had escaped from his opened mouth, startling her. She jerked back her hand from him and then quickly redressed him in Howard’s pyjamas before her mother, or worse, Mickey walked back into the room.
She floats back to where a Time Lord with a puzzled expression is sheathed inside her. She rolls them over so that she is on top and his expression changes to surprised excitement as she begins to move above him.
“Rose Tyler,” he says between somewhat undignified grunts, “have I told you lately how brilliant you are?”
He grasps her hips and begins to thrust up into her as she pushes down to meet him. She leans forward slightly and the bumpbumpbump of his pelvis against her soon turns the slow burn in her belly to a fiery explosion that spreads from her core throughout her body. When she screams her release, the vocalization along with the clenching muscles around his cock push him over the edge, and he groans her name along with a string of expletives that surprise even him. He is sure behind the noises emanating from his bedroom he can hear a low hum of disapproval from his ship.
So here they are again - she pressed against his side listening to the slowing rhythms of his double heartbeats, his fingers drawing little circles on her arm. (They are really the Gallifreyan letters of his name and he just realizes he is doing it.) The room is dark and quiet except for the background hum of the TARDIS, who now seems to have gotten over her prudishness. He rests his chin on the top of her head, suddenly fascinated by the way his breath stirs her hair. He smiles as she reaches over and rests her hand, palm-down, on his chest, her fingers absently curling through the hairs. Someday he will tell her of the strange and arousing dream he experienced during his regeneration sleep, the one where she moved her hand across his body much like she is doing now, the one where she caressed and stroked his cock and then whispered ‘help me’ into his ear.
Someday.